Perverse
by John Locke
Summary: There is no other word for their twisted sort of fate that leads them together besides perverse. The Bat's worst enemy and sidekick slash son are more than starcrossed lovers. TimJoker. Mature themes and more. Slashtastic drabbles.
1. Green

_A/N: I am aware that this pairing is very... wrong. But it spawned from a conversation between a friend and myself on a RP forum where she plays Tim and I play Joker. These drabbles soon followed if not for the placation of my Joker muse. I own nothing._

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**Perverse: Green by John Locke**

Green, why did everything have to be green?

Tim didn't know.

It wasn't the older man's fault… he was actually starting to believe that it actually was Bruce's.

He could understand the all white skin (_every__**thing**_ was white, well everything that wasn't green), really he could.

But green hair.

Every strand.

Every tuft.

He couldn't hold back the surprised look on his face when he first saw it. The slight trail of green hair that made a path south from the white belly button made him think that he was hallucinating.

When he knew he wasn't, he started to laugh.


	2. Behind the Mind's Back

_I still own nothing... apparently not even sanity._

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**Perverse: Behind the Mind's Back by John Locke**

No, _no_.

Tim's mind could only keep repeating that one word when a long pointed tongue reached out of its owner's red mouth to caress his cheek. It left a slick trail up the cheek and around a masked eye.

"Come on precious, you've got to tell me if you want me," a surprisingly feminine voice sounded in lusty tenor.

_No no NO!_

A purple covered hand reached up a covered torso. Tongue licked its way all over the young face.

"I…"

_**NO**_

"want you."

The voice betrayed the mind, and the hand found the catches of the uniform.


	3. Flavor

_I lied before, I do own some sanity... and this laptop. No DC characters though._

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**Perverse: Flavor by John Locke**

He tastes like mint, Tim files that away for later use, despite the fact that his teeth look uncared for.

That just so happened to be a side effect of the chemical bath he took, years before he was even born, the yellow color that is.

No, he doesn't taste like mint, he tastes like mint and insanity and he can't seem to deny liking it.

Though he couldn't deny anything when the probing tongue wandered in for a lingering greeting, and started fleeing after a slow au revoir.

He swallowed the enduring insanity and smiled, it tasted like excitement.


	4. Fully Empty

_Warning: Sexual implications... Still owning nothing but mental images and laptops._

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**Perverse: Fully Empty by John Locke**

Slick fingers, wet skin, dampened hair, sodden clothes. So humid, so full of moisture.

Wild abandon in an alleyway.

Tights around ankles and boots still on, purple pants long discarded. Nothing underneath.

Tasted, petted, touched from all angles. Stroked, felt, licked to death.

Chest to back, purple leather hands supporting a man's weight against a wall, brick grinding into untouched palms.

Green gauntlets so full of sweat gripping hips tightly.

Push and pull, grunt and grind.

Heavy swears tumbled from swollen lips, pink, red, bruised the same.

Laughter from pleasure, cries from ecstasy.

Skin on skin, soul to empty soul.


	5. Knowledge

_Yeah, you get the point... no ownership_

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**Perverse: Knowledge by John Locke**

Young, so young, but he can't bring himself to care.

It would make the Bat mad, and that just makes it all the better, but that is definitely a plus.

Knowing the freshly eighteen year old's body like the back of his blank hand brings a chill to his spine every time he thinks about the modeled perfection. He gets even harder when he thinks about the tights, actually.

Mysteries always intrigued him, and numbers never mattered. Not knowing his name or full face but his age is perverse. But not moreso that knowing what makes the younger man squeal.


	6. Masochism

_:D -- the face of the girl who owned nothing._

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**Perverse: Masochism by John Locke**

The only color on his face is the large purpling bruise, a tentative hand prodding into swollen flesh with a curious gasp of pain.

He likes it.

He was hit, he bruised, and he likes it.

Sure, he had pushed Birdy just a little bit too far, but that didn't mean he deserved to be hit. Well, deserving or not they had exchanged literal blows before. Mostly his leather hand against supple muscled ass...

Prodding and poking at it again he felt the pain shoot right down to his dick. He couldn't wait to ask him to do it again.


	7. Reprise

_Blahblahnothing._

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**Perverse: Reprise by John Locke**

He got his prize, a large rolling grin and a slowly blossoming hand print right across his previously untouched cheek.

All it had taken was a little poking and prodding after the initial statement.

Well, actually after the Birdy stopped laughing at him all it took was a quick grab for the domino mask, a slight tug and he didn't see anything.

Not even a stray eyelash, but he did get the pain shooting right up over his cheek bone complete with shock of pleasure firing behind his eyes. Next time, he knew better not to even ask first.


	8. What I could be

_Yadda yadda I am poor. No money making._

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**Perverse: What I could be... by John Locke**

I could be wholesome with the way I touch you, with the way the leather gloves flex around you.

But then your grunts would only grow with anger. That cute look of disgusted bliss falling straight into fury.

I could be loathsome, but you know I already am. I take my hands away and your anger turns into a fit of growling rage.

I just peel off my gloves and touch you again, pretending to be shy. But you shatter that with one simple thrust, and my grip tightens.

Don't you like me being gentle for once?

I guess not.


	9. Just Don't

_Hey!! Mentions of our favorite red headed archer... :D._

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**Perverse: Just Do...n't by John Locke**

He's been watching me for days now, I know. I can hear his hidden laughter, not quite as quiet as he would like. I know the sound of his leather gloves against slick lips and frankly, it scares the shit out of me.

He just watches me, and I swore I saw something yesterday that would make Roy Harper blush. I know he was, God I don't even want to say it, let alone think it.

I land right in front of him, and breath and I scream. "Why don't you just fucking do it?"

And then he kisses me.


	10. Take Me

_Haha yay squickiness. If I owned DC or any of the characters there would be more of this._

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**Perverse: TakeMe by John Locke**

Bruce would be devastated, no, he would be disgusted.

He wouldn't know what to do with himself if I ever told him I slept with the Joker.

And it most definitely was not rape.

I asked for it, more than figuratively because I just told him to take me.

"Take you…. Where?" He asked and I nearly cried from frustration.

But he took me, took me hard against a wall before again in his bed.

I wanted him; I want him, still do. I press my back against his bare chest, his arm tightening around my waist pulling me closer.


	11. Colored in Tandem

_Prettiness ensues illogically._

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**Perverse: Colored in Tandem**

The suit is easy to spot; both of them would say if they were asked.

How hard was it to spot a white faced, green haired, purple suit wearing criminal?

Or even a red and yellow spot against a bleary skyline?

They live in Gotham, the darkest city in Jersey.

Dirty, disgusting, raiser of filth. Foster home for sex.

Irony slipped between them when the more colorful by nature of the two fondled the younger.

"You're the most colorful thing that I've seen."

They both say at the same time, eyes wandering from sheathed faces to colorful bodies in tandem.


	12. Mine

_More smutesqueness. Owner of nada._

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**Perverse: Mine by John Locke**

Teeth, lips, tongue, all blur into a tangle of nothing with clanging fervor. But oh, _oh_, does it mean everything.

Anger flourishes into resentment and pain when backs are torn apart by clawing gauntlets and sharpened nails. They leave their marks, some invisible. But the pattern of brick against one face is hardly ignorable.

The tear of flesh is less than noticeable, but highly visible in the way the younger will walk tomorrow.

Unprepared, unwanted, but needed and desired.

Stolen whispers and heart beats, the word why hanging in the air.

The silent "'Cause you're mine" echoes when they're spent.


	13. Exhibitionism

_Clown touching clowny bits... you are warn-ed._

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**Perverse: Exhibitionism by John Locke**

Exhibitionism was just another thing to add to his list of isms that he apparently suffered from.

Though he only liked to show his bits and pieces to Birdies.

The pleasure of showing only doubled with the fact that he was a voyeur. Each and every time he saw a certain Birdy pull off his cape or boots he got harder than calculus problem was to a toddler.

The gentle fold of the cape brushing over sculpted calves and he shuddered, his fingers moving so fast that they nearly set his pants ablaze with the fevered pace of the strokes.


End file.
